


Hitting Rock Bottom

by zibal_01



Series: Hitting Rock Bottom [1]
Category: Original Work, Sport; Ice Hockey
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zibal_01/pseuds/zibal_01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work based around a fictional NHL team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PurplePitty616161](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePitty616161/gifts).



> I started writing this about a week prior to the "Bell Let's Talk" campaign, which highlights depression in professional sport.
> 
> Joe Lekovic, of the Miami Mustangs, finds himself in the position where he believes his only choice is to end it all.

Jozef Lekovic’s eyes fluttered behind his eyelids, consciousness coming to him slowly. In the background, he could hear his television. He tried to reach for the remote control, to turn it off, but he couldn’t move his arm. Any attempt to do so was accompanied by a rattling sound.

Opening his eyes, Jozef immediately became disorientated: he was not in his room. He was… in a hospital… chained to the bed.

Then the television caught his attention…

 _“The hockey world was shocked and saddened today as news of the attempted suicide of Miami Mustangs’ Jozef Lekovic broke.”_ Reality struck Lekovic like a steam train. He had tried to kill himself – and failed, just like he had failed at everything else in his life – his work and relationships. Tears welled in his eyes as, in the background, the newsreader droned on.

_“22 year old Lekovic is in his second year with the Mustangs. In his rookie year, his points total had placed him in contention for the “Rookie of the Year” award._

_“Meanwhile, in a statement released by their General Manager, Miami Mustangs have requested that Lekovic’s privacy, and that of his family, is respected at this difficult time.”_

The tears started to flow down Lekovic’s cheeks. He could not stop them – and, given that his wrists were secured to the bed, he could do nothing to wipe them away.

 _“No details have been given regarding Lekovic’s suicide attempt or his current condition,”_ the newsreader shuffled the papers on the desk before her, preparing for the next story, _“except to say that he is stable and receiving the best possible medical care.”_

A knock on the door startled Joe. Without turning towards it, he replied quietly, “Go away.”

Joe was surprised to hear footsteps moving away from his room. He had not expected the person to actually listen to him.

His pleasure at being listened to was short lived. Less than a minute later, footsteps could be heard moving towards his room – and there was more than one set.

The footsteps stopped outside Joe’s room. He heard a muffled conversation, followed by someone walking away.

“Mr Lekovic,” Joe turned to see an older man, dressed in blue scrubs, enter the room. “I’m Dr Anderson. I’ve been in charge of your care since you were admitted, and I’m delighted that you’ve woken up.” Dr Anderson picked Joe’s chart out of its holder, checking his latest observations. Joe stared at him.

“Anderson?” he murmured, his voice not working as he had hoped. “Do I know you?”

Dr Anderson smiled. “We’ve met a couple of times. My son, Colby, plays for the Mustangs. In fact, it was him you told to “Go away”.”

The colour drained from Joe’s face, “Colby was here?”

“Yes,” Dr Anderson confirmed. “He should be back any minute. He’s just gone for coffee.”

“He’s coming back?” Joe sounded lost. He slumped back on the bed. “Why would he waste his time coming to see me?”

This drew Dr Anderson up sharply from the chart. Returning it to its holder, he moved to the side of Joe’s bed. “He’s been here every day since you were admitted. The only times he’s been away have been for training – and when I’ve forced him to go and get some rest.”

“But, why would he waste his time on me?” Joe sounded bewildered. “Surely he has better things to do with his time…”

“Not according to Colby, but you can discuss that with him,” Dr Anderson turned serious. “You’ve been a very lucky young man. All the tests that we have run have ruled out any permanent damage to your major organs. You were sick at the scene, which will have helped.

“On admittance, we induced vomiting to ensure that your stomach was fully emptied, and to minimise the absorption of the paracetamol that you had swallowed.

“That was a week ago,” the doctor paused. “Since then, we’ve been monitoring you, waiting for you to regain consciousness. Now you’re awake we can at least ask you how you are.” The doctor pulled a chair up to the side of Joe’s bed, sitting himself down. “So, how are you?”

Joe closed his eyes. That was the question, wasn’t it? The really hard, impossible to answer question. Physically, he felt fine – well except for a few aches and pains from lying for so long and, “My throat’s killing me,” he murmured.

Dr Anderson nodded. “That’s understandable. We had to intubate you to help your breathing. The tube was removed two days ago when you started gagging on it.”

“Oh,” was the only response that Joe could muster. He found that he was getting tired even though he had just woken up. Digging deep into his – now limited – energy reserves, he summoned up a few more words. “Can I have these off?” indicating the restraints on his wrists.

“I’m sorry, Joe. That’s not my decision to make,” Dr Anderson advised. “I’ll arrange for someone to come and talk to you later…”

“A shrink?”

“Yes,” Dr Anderson confirmed. “I have to make a call to arrange it. Why don’t you try to get some rest until then?” Anderson stood to leave, then remembered that Colby would return soon. “One more thing, Joe – do you want Colby to stay? Or should I send him home?”

Joe thought about it briefly. He knew that Colby would be looking for answers from him, but he also wanted a few questions of his own answering.

“He can stay…”

“I’ll let him know.” And, with that, Dr Anderson lest, and Joe found himself alone with his thoughts.

 _I shouldn’t be here_ he thought. _I should be dead._ He turned his head to stare out of the window. _What went wrong? How did I end up here?_

With these thoughts whizzing through his head Joe exhausted himself. Within five minutes he was fast asleep, all thoughts of his failure forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

The young man was sleeping when Colby returned to Joe's room. Crossing the room quietly, Colby sat in the chair which had recently been vacated by his father. In one hand, Colby held a large cup of coffee. Sipping it absent-mindedly, Colby turned his attention to Joe's sleeping form.

Sleeping, Joe looked even younger than his 22 years. In fact, Colby knew that Joe was regularly asked for identification at 18 rated films.

 _It must be the floppy blond hair_ , Colby thought, _and the baby blue eyes. Makes him look vulnerable_...

Colby tilted his head to the side, wondering why he had not noticed Joe's vulnerability prior to now. He decided it was the setting. He had never seen Joe sleeping - or in hospital.

His mind started working overtime. He had so many questions that he wanted - no needed to ask Joe. He had to understand exactly why Joe had tried to take his own life.

Slumping down in his chair, Colby slipped his phone from his pocket. Unlocking it, he tapped on his email icon, opening his inbox. Without needing to look, he managed to open the email that he had received from Joe the previous week.

_"Colby_

_Thank you for all your help since I moved to Miami. I'm sorry that I failed you, that I failed the team, like I have failed in everything else in my life. I can't go on failing anymore._

_It's time to end things,_

_Joe"_

Colby had had no idea why Joe had sent him the email. It was the most heartbreaking thing that Colby had ever read. He could not see why Joe thought that he had failed the team, or in anything else. But, something in the tone had worried Colby enough to make him go in search of the youngster - and he was so glad that he had...  

_Flashback_

_Colby pulled up outside Joe's house. He noted that Joe's car was parked in the driveway. Touching the bonnet revealed that the car had been parked long enough for the engine to have cooled._

_The front of the house was in darkness. Colby knocked on the door, and waited for a response. There was no sound from within the house. Trying the door revealed that it was locked._

_Looking round, Colby noticed the gate to the side of the house was ajar. He approached it, pushing it further open._

_The rear of the house was also in darkness. This time, though, when Colby tried the door, it swung open._

_"Joe" Colby had called. Again, there was no response. He found a light switch, pushing it to illuminate Joe's kitchen._

_The kitchen was spotless: no sign of Joe. Colby moved through into the hallway._

_The hallway was not large. A door to Colby's left opened into Joe's living-room. Still no sign of Joe, which left only the upstairs of the house..._

_He had found Joe, in the second room that he had checked, lying in a pool of vomit. An empty vodka bottle and pill bottle lay close by._

_Grasping for his phone, Colby had dropped to his knees to check whether or not Joe was alive. He found a weak pulse. Dialling 911 with one hand, Colby had manoeuvred Joe into the recovery position, then checked that his airway was clear._

_It had taken an eternity for the ambulance to arrive. All the while, Colby was on his knees, talking to the youngster, carding his fingers through Joe's hair, while asking one question: Why?_

Now, watching Joe sleep, Colby was none the wiser as to why, but at least now he might get the opportunity to ask the question.


	3. Chapter 3

When Joe finally woke from sleeping, Colby was standing beside the window, staring out, wrapped in the arms of another man.  They were talking in hushed tones and, Joe realised, the other man was one of their teammates... one of the Treloar twins.  In the dark, Joe couldn't tell if it was Jonny or Kasey but, judging by the intimacy on display, and knowing Colby, Joe decided that it was more likely to be Jonny. 

Joe lay there, wondering whether or not he should alert them to the fact that he was awake.  He didn't want to intrude, so he waited.  It wasn't long before Treloar placed a loving kiss on Colby's temple, then turned and left. 

"I know you're awake," Colby commented, still looking out of the window.  "I can tell by the sounds that the instruments make."  He composed himself. Then turned back into the room.  "How are you feeling?" 

Joe tried to speak, coughed, then managed to croak, "My throat is killing me..." 

Colby glanced around, looking for some water.  Realising that there wasn't any, he turned his attention back to Joe.  "I'll just go and get you some ice cubes to suck on."

Joe lay back in the bed, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the hospital.  Thoughts buzzed through his head, trying to make sense of... well, everything really... 

When Colby returned, his father, Dr Anderson was with him.  Colby slipped an ice cube between Joe's lips for him whilst Dr Anderson checked Joe's pulse and blood pressure.  Stepping back from the bed, Colby watched as his father continued examining Joe:  pupil reaction, reflexes, grip strength... 

Everything checked out just fine. 

"Did... did I have a head injury?" Joe asked, softly, trying to protect his throat. 

"Yes," Dr Anderson confirmed.  "We think you fell off your bed, and banged your head.  It was lucky that Colby found you when he did.  Any later and I don't think we'd be having this conversation..."  He let the sentence hang in the air, trying to impress on Joe the gravitas of the situation. 

Joe turned his head away from Dr Anderson and Colby.  He did not want them to see the tears welling in his eyes.  Joe had not been expecting to have this - or any other - conversation.  Finally, he spoke.

"How did you find me, Colby? He asked, softly. 

"You sent me an email," Colby advised.  "It... it read like a suicide note, so I... I went looking for you." 

"I sent you an email?" Joe sounded confused.  Why would he email Colby, of all people, a suicide note?  It did not make any sense. 

"Yes," Colby croaked.  He was now close to tears.  He slid his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, retrieved the email and held his phone so that Joe could read it.  His father's hand on his shoulder guided him to the bedside chair, squeezing reassuringly, before his father excused himself. 

Joe chewed on his lower lip as he read his email.  Silently, after finishing, he closed his eyes.  He could not remember sending the email to Colby, and he wasn't even sure why he had done so.  Had he meant this as a cry for help rather than a suicide attempt?  He was beginning to think that he would never be able to answer that question. 

There was a long silence, during which Colby thought that Joe had dropped off to sleep again.  He was considering trying to get some sleep himself when Joe turned to him. 

"How did you find me?" 

"Your club cell phone," Colby admitted.  "All the club cell phones have GPS trackers in them.  It helps to be able to pinpoint the players' movements if necessary.  One of the guys was accused of rape a few years back.  The GPS in his phone helped with confirming his alibi."  What he didn't mention was that the player accused was Jonny Treloar, and that Colby, himself, had been his alibi.  Keeping their relationship under wraps had been problematic after that, but they had managed. 

"But, why?"  Joe asked. 

Colby was confused.  Surely that was _his_ question.  "Why what, Joe?" 

"Why did you come looking for me?" 

"After receiving your email, I needed to know if you were ok," Colby started.  "I had the security office confirm your whereabouts, and headed straight to your house." 

"I didn't mean that," Joe spoke softly.  "I want to know why you wasted your time coming to find me." 

Colby frowned, trying to understand what he was hearing.  Why had he gone in search of Joe?  Why had it mattered so much to him?  "Because you're my teammate and my friend." 

"But..." Joe tried to interrupt, but Colby cut him off. 

"No "buts", Joe," Colby continued.  "I don't care if you had a bad spell and got sent down to the minors.  You're still a Mustang... and you're still my friend." 

Joe's eyes filled with tears.  He wanted to believe Colby, but, at this time, he couldn't.  At this time, he couldn't believe that he had any friends.  The loneliness had been weighing him down for months.  Even when he was in a crowded room, he felt so alone that it hurt - physically and emotionally. 

"I'm sorry, Colby," Joe muttered.  "I... I couldn't see any other option.  I... I felt boxed into a corner with no way out..."  Tears streamed down Joe's face as he continued.  "I... I had no-one to turn to... didn't know how to get help..."  He shook his head, "I felt... invisible..." 

Colby took Joe's hand, "You're not invisible, and you're not alone.  If you want to talk, I'm here for you... and if you don't feel like you can talk to me, we'll find someone you can talk to.  Ok?" 

Joe nodded slowly.  "Why, Colby?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" 

Colby took a deep centring breath, then replied, "Because I've been there myself..."


End file.
